


the lock on the door (will not hold)

by hollow_dweller



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Let's go with that, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Well - Freeform, Whump, also there's some gratuitous comic book science in here sorry, i continue my tradition of writing irondad stories about every relationship but tony & peter's, i paper over it anyway, i've decided to call it depicting irondad via negative space, this one gets heavy but i fix it eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28091883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_dweller/pseuds/hollow_dweller
Summary: He speaks calmly and confidently, cracking jokes, grinning irreverently, oozing charm with every roguish wink and flash of teeth. Peter thinks it’s supposed to be reassuring-Mr. Stark's fine, healthy, none the worse for wear after having been kidnapped. Any other time, he’d be reassured.But as he watches Mr. Stark work the crowd on his tiny, cracked, phone screen, his eyes snag on something in the background. Happy and Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes are all standing a few paces away, just visible in the periphery. It’s hard to tell, through the screen, but--they look strained. They look worried.Unease settles uncomfortably in Peter’s stomach.Maybe Mr. Stark’s not as alright as he looks.*After Mr. Stark is kidnapped by an unknown enemy, Peter begins to notice that he's acting strangely. Cagey, forgetful, careless--even a little bit mean. Peter tries to tough it out, to put on a brave face--nobody should be worrying about him while Mr. Stark is obviously going through something. But as time goes on, and things don't get better, he can't shake the sense that there's something...more going on. That maybe, when they got Mr. Stark back...They got him backwrong.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2020





	the lock on the door (will not hold)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JolinarJackson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/gifts).



> this is written for Jolinar Jackson for the irondad fic exchange; i LOVED your prompts, and i really hope you like it! you said i could take it as angsty or whumpy as i wanted, so i....did. 
> 
> title from "things we say in the dark" by kirsty logan.

Mr. Stark has been missing for a whole week before they finally find him. 

Peter isn't a part of the rescue effort. Colonel Rhodes sits him down when they’ve finally narrowed in on Mr. Stark’s location and asks him to stand by--they don’t have a lot of information about what’s going on in the place where Mr. Stark is being held, and no one wants him to accidentally end up in danger. Colonel Rhodes says that they’ll keep him updated, but he knows Mr. Stark wouldn’t want Peter to be put in harm's way, not for him. 

Peter’s first instinct is to balk at the implication--he can handle himself, he’s been doing this Spider-Man thing for nearly two years now, and he _knows_ he can help. He’s been going out of his mind since he heard the news--delivered by a solemn-faced Happy--that Mr. Stark was missing, and he wants to _help_. 

But he also doesn’t want to be a distraction to the team going in to rescue Mr. Stark. He has a suspicion that if he were around, they would be more focused on keeping an eye on him than on saving Mr. Stark, and he knows they need their full attention devoted to the task at hand. 

So he swallows his disappointment, his frustration at being benched, and nods. Colonel Rhodes smiles and claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“Good man,” he says. And: “We’ll bring him home, Pete. I promise.”

*

They do bring him home. It turns out to be a fairly simple operation, all things considered. Colonel Rhodes promised to keep him updated, and he does. Just quick little texts, but Peter appreciates them all the same. 

_Going in, kid._

And then, just a little over an hour later:

_Got him. On the way back now._

Peter spends too long composing what he thinks is an appropriately mature response-- _Glad to hear it. Thank you for letting me know.--_ and refrains from sending Colonel Rhodes’ the approximately five thousand follow up questions rattling around his brain. Peter’s met him a handful of times, crossing paths during his lab days, usually, and even worked a bit on his armor and leg braces, under Mr. Stark’s careful supervision. But he doesn’t really _know_ Colonel Rhodes--the most they’ve talked has actually been this week, with Colonel Rhodes giving him updates on the search for Mr. Stark, probably to prevent Peter from skipping school and doing his own investigation. He’s still _War Machine_ , and an Avenger. Peter doesn’t want to blow up his phone with his questions. 

So he blows up Happy’s instead. 

_cl. rhodes says that mr. stark is back have u seen him???_

_is he ok?_

_did they have to take him to medical??_

_is he awake???_

_happy i’m not gonna stop just bcuz ur leaving me on read_

_come on man u know me better than that_

_Jesus Christ kid_

_!!!_

_how is he??_

_He’s fine_

_Didn’t even need medical_

_seriously?? he always makes me go to medical_

_and i’ve never even been kidnapped for a week_

_that’s bs_

_Yeah, well_

_...what does that mean?_

_‘yeah well’ sounds like there’s a thing_

_is there a thing?_

_is mr. stark alright?_

_Don’t worry about it_

_…_

_k……..._

_when can i come see him?_

_can swing over to stwr literally whenever_

_We’re at the compound_

_I’ll let you know_

_ok thanks_

_tell him i’m glad he’s back?_

_I will, kid_

_*_

Mr. Stark holds a press conference the day after he is rescued. 

The first thing Peter notices, watching the livestream on his phone, headphones shoved in his ears and head ducked down so Ms. Warren won’t see him, is that Mr. Stark looks… well, he looks kind of _good_ , actually. 

That seems like it shouldn’t be the case, somehow. Not that Peter wants for anything bad to have happened to Mr. Stark, but he’s pretty sure that’s not how most people look after being kidnapped. He has vague memories of watching Mr. Stark’s first press conference after returning from Afghanistan--sitting on Ben’s knee, fascinated even at that age with one of the foremost scientific minds in the world, May and Ben’s debate over the ramifications of Stark Industries withdrawing from the weapons industry flying entirely over his head. He’s watched that press conference over and over again on youtube in the intervening years--almost as many times as the Iron Man announcement, as a matter of fact. 

Mr. Stark had looked surprisingly good during that press conference too, all things being equal--but he’d been thin and slightly washed out, his arm in a sling, wearing the captivity in the hollows of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. More than that, he’d been--possessed of a sort of manic energy, a desperation Peter could feel radiating through the screen, even then. He hadn’t entirely understood what he was seeing, the first time he’d watched it, but in the years since he’s come to recognize the emotion he was seeing there: a raw, scraping mixture of regret and guilt and anger and resolve, propelling Mr.Stark forward, into the choice he'd made.

And, Peter thinks, into many of the ones that followed. 

This time, Mr. Stark is… different. He stands tall behind the small podium erected outside Stark Tower--repurchased and recommissioned, a bustling center of activity that Peter never stops being slightly overwhelmed by, every time he goes there--sunglasses on, crisp wool pea coat on in deference to the early December chill, but otherwise looking unbothered by, well, anything, really. 

He speaks calmly and confidently, cracking jokes, grinning irreverently, oozing charm with every roguish wink and flash of teeth. Peter thinks it’s supposed to be reassuring--Mr. Stark is fine, he’s healthy, he’s none the worse for wear after having been kidnapped. He imagines that any other time, he’d be reassured. 

But as he watches Mr. Stark work the crowd on his tiny, cracked, phone screen, his eyes snag on something in the background. Happy and Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes are all standing a few paces away, just visible in the periphery. Their heads are bent together, the three of them, immersed in a quiet but seemingly-heated conversation. From the way each of them occasionally turns their head to look over at Mr. Stark, it’s pretty clear what the topic of their conversation is. 

It’s hard to tell, through the screen, but--they look strained. 

They look _worried_. 

Something settles uncomfortably in Peter’s stomach, then, something slightly sour and curdling, like unease. 

Maybe Mr. Stark’s not as alright as he looks. 

*

Peter has Mr. Stark’s number in his phone. 

It’s a thought that makes him feel a little bit unnerved, every time he thinks it. Like maybe it’s not information he’s supposed to have, and he’ll get in trouble if someone finds out, despite the fact that Mr. Stark put his number into Peter’s phone himself. 

That’s probably part of why Peter’s never really used it. He could, theoretically--Mr. Stark texts him occasionally, mostly with follow up notes on whatever Peter’s been working on in the lab, or with last-minute schedule changes, or check-ins after patrols, that kind of thing. And Peter always texts back; of course he does, it’s not like Tony Stark is the kind of person you can just ghost, are you kidding? But he’s always a little wary about texting first, or too often, or too exuberantly. It feels like a privilege he’s only tentatively earned, and one he could lose at any time. 

But a week goes by, and he doesn’t hear anything at all from Mr. Stark. Happy had messaged him to let him know Mr. Stark was going to be tied up at the compound all week, post-kidnapping--they arrested a bunch of guys when they rescued Mr. Stark, but apparently the ring-leaders are still out there--and Peter was welcome to head to the lab as usual but Mr. Stark wouldn’t be there. 

He thinks about going anyway. He’d been midway through a web reformulation before Mr. Stark had disappeared, working on lowering the electro-conductivity--a problem for him during storms, as he’d had the misfortune of discovering mid-chase--without compromising the tensile strength. It had been giving him some trouble, and he’d like to get back into it. Mr. Stark had been shooting him fond, slightly smug looks every time he’d brought the problem up during their last few lab sessions, so Peter’s pretty sure he figured out what Peter was missing and is just waiting on him to catch up. 

Mr. Stark has a tendency to do that, with Peter’s projects--let him muddle through it himself with only hints and gentle nudges, when he got truly stuck. It was a little maddening--Mr. Stark is a gloater by nature and by trade--but it was also that much more satisfying when Peter finally got there on his own. It would feel like a bit of a let-down, to be honest, if he figured it out when Mr. Stark wasn’t even there. 

So he opts to get in a little extra patrolling that week, instead, and let the lab time wait. He can wait. He’s got patience in spades. Oodles of patience, even. 

He says as much to May over dinner, explaining why he’s not headed off to Stark Tower. She nearly laughs herself sick.

“Yuck it up, lady,” he says grumpily, slumping in his seat and trying to keep the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth from breaking free. May’s laughter is infectious, and it soothes the tiny flare of...not hurt, exactly, but something like it, that he’d felt over the whole thing. Peter’s not a little kid, he understands that Mr. Stark has stuff to do, now especially. 

He’d have liked to have heard from Mr. Stark himself, instead of from Happy, is all. But. It doesn’t really matter, anyway. 

May wipes a stray tear from her eye and points a finger at him, mock-stern. “That’s _Sir_ lady to you, mister,” she says. “I demand respect.” 

Peter sticks his tongue out at her. 

Her expression softens a little, looking at him. “You sure you’re okay with this?” she asks. “I know last week was pretty rough, with him...away. It’s alright to admit you want to see him.” 

He drops his gaze to his food, suddenly finding it difficult to meet her eyes. “Yeah, I guess. But like, it’s just a few lab sessions. Mr. Stark is busy.” 

May hums, but not in a way that sounds like she’s buying what Peter’s selling. “Sure, except Tony Stark managed to find time for you at least once a week for a year. I’m not so sure I’m all that impressed he’s magically lost that ability now.”  
  
Peter groans. He knows what that tone means. “Seriously May, it’s one week. _Please_ don’t say anything to him. He was kidnapped. I think that gives you a free pass on forgetting about your intern for a little while.”

The look she gives him says pretty clearly that she’s not all that impressed with him, either. “You’re not just an intern, and we both know it.”

“ _May_.” 

She raises her eyebrows, but relents. “Alright, but you let me know if you change your mind, okay? You know I have no problem giving that man a piece of my mind.” 

Peter snorts at that little bit of understatement, then sighs. “It’s _fine_. I’ll see him next week.”

*

Except that next week rolls around, and Happy texts him again: 

_Hey kid, looking like it’s going to be another week at the compound here._

_oh_

_i mean ok!_

_i guess there’s still a lot to do to find the guys who took him, right?_

_Yeah, he’s pretty focused._

Peter doesn’t really have anything else to say to that, so he sends a thumbs-up emoji and sets his phone down, turning back to his homework and trying not to think about the pang of disappointment in his stomach. 

About ten minutes later, though, his phone buzzes with another text. Happy again. 

_Doesn’t mean I can’t kick his ass back to New York if need be_

_Wouldn’t want you to feel neglected_

_You get kinda plane-hijacky when you’re neglected_

_wow_

_ok first of all that wasn’t my fault_

_i’m an innocent victim of circumstance_

_Sure_

_the bad guy was my date’s dad!!_

_who has that kind of luck????_

_(the answer is me. only i have that kind of luck)_

_Yeah, okay_

_Seriously, though, I can practically hear you vibrating from here_

_I can let him know you want to see him_

Peter squints at his phone. 

_have u been talking to may?_

_That’s not relevant_

_i’m fine happy_

_really_

_we can do lab day next week_

_or whenever_

_Alright_

_Just let me know_

_i will_

_but i’m really fine_

_it’s nbd_

*

It’s kind of a big deal. 

See, it wouldn’t have been, on any normal day. Sure, another week goes by of radio silence from Mr. Stark, and sure that really kind of sucks, when Peter thinks about it too hard, which he doesn’t, at all. But the thing about three weeks of not being in the lab--four weeks really, including the week Mr. Stark had been gone--is that Peter’s work on the electro-conductivity of his webs had stalled completely. 

And _that_ wouldn’t have necessarily been that big a deal, either, except, well. That’s just Peter’s luck. 

He’s fighting some guys in a construction site, when the problem of his hyper-conductive webs comes back to bite him in a really unfortunate way. 

And painful. Peter would like to put it on record, for anyone wondering: being electrocuted really fucking hurts. 

He’s got two bad guys in front of him, another knocked out cold somewhere behind them. Peter had caught them cornering a couple of poor, frightened tourists, demanding their wallets and phones, and the three of them had booked it as soon as he’d swooped in. He thinks the construction site was their attempt to lose him, away from the lights of the street, but Peter doesn’t need light to see, and he certainly doesn’t need it to hear. 

Now he’s got one of them down for the count, and the other two won’t be far behind, if Peter has any say. He flings a web towards the one on his left, keeping half an eye on the guy on the right, to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like try to rush Peter. As a result, he’s not paying the attention he perhaps should to the guy on his left, and he doesn’t notice until too late that his aim is off. Not by a lot--just enough that the guy is able to dodge, the web sailing past him and into the bare bones of a partially built wall. 

A partially built wall, that, Peter notices a second too late, has a mess of exposed wiring running through it. 

_That can’t be proper construction safety protocol_ , Peter thinks, before an electrical current hits him like a ton of bricks. 

He feels the electricity blaze through him for a brief, blinding moment--like fire, molten lava, searing across his skin and through his veins, scorching through muscle and sinew, a pain so overwhelming, so inescapable, that it’s a mercy when blackness closes over him and he doesn’t have to feel anything at all. 

*

Peter wakes up freezing and in pain. 

There’s something not quite right about that, he thinks for a hazy, muddled few seconds. Beyond the obvious, that is. The last time this had happened it had hurt, of course, but he had woken to dim lighting and soft sheets and May, eyes red-rimmed but smiling, saying that he was okay, and that the doctors had been taking very good care of him, and that he was healing so fast that soon it would be like nothing had happened at all. 

He groans and pushes himself to sitting, feeling the ache of every movement all the way down to his bones, and tries to get his bearings. 

He’s still at the construction site, that much is clear. It’s still nighttime, as well, and as far as he can tell it can’t have been more than a few hours, tops, since he was electrocuted. 

The bad guys are gone, of course. Probably grabbed their buddy and ran, the second Peter had been knocked out. 

He supposes he should feel grateful they just decided to leave him there. Peter doesn’t have much experience, but he feels like, historically, being unconscious and vulnerable in front of enemies has not been the most enjoyable experience for your average neighborhood vigilante. 

Not that Peter knows very many of those--or any at all--but. The logic seems sound. 

The next thing he does, after taking a frankly embarrassing amount of time to recover his breath after sitting up, is check KAREN’s functions. 

Unsurprisingly, she’s dead. Mr. Stark had reinforced her shock protection after the last time this had happened, but she's still integrated into a high-tech super-suit. There’s only so much energy any piece of technology, even one so advanced as Peter’s suit, can handle being directly exposed to before it shorts. 

A little bit of clumsy pawing at his boot, and Peter manages to get his phone out. Also unsurprising: it’s dead too. 

“Aw man,” Peter mutters to himself, resisting the urge to just flop back down to the ground and go back to sleep. “May has got to be _freaking out_.”

*

May has, in fact, been freaking out. 

By the time Peter manages to drag himself home, the first rays of dawn are creeping over the horizon, the faintest glow of pale grey at the edge of blackness. 

There’s no way he’s getting himself up the wall of his building in this state, so he goes in through the front door, glancing around furtively to check that nobody is around to see him in his fried, blackened, but distinctly Spider-man-y outfit. 

He has to knock to be let in, because it’s not like he brings his keys with him when he goes out on patrol, and Happy opens the door. 

Happy blinks at Peter. Peter blinks at Happy. 

“What the _fuck_ happened to you?” Happy blurts. 

“Peter? Is that Peter?” May’s voice breaks through Happy and Peter’s little bubble of mutual incredulity. Then May is there, shoving Happy bodily out of the way--a feat in and of itself, given their relative size and weight differences--and tugging Peter forward across the threshold, crushing him against her. 

He barely has the time to let out a little _oof_ of surprise--and yeah, pain, because his healing factor is a marvel but he still feels a little bit like he’s been pounded all over with a meat tenderizer--before she is stepping back, hands on his shoulders, looking over his charred and blackened suit with alarm. 

“What the fuck _happened_ to you?” she says. 

Peter tells them, moving further into the apartment so he can ease himself into a chair at the kitchen table. He winces as he does, a small thing that he manages to control a second too late, and catches them exchanging concerned looks out of the corner of his eye. 

“So that explains why you weren’t picking up your phone,” May says, worry etching lines into her forehead. 

He smiles apologetically at her, “Yeah, sorry. I’m probably going to need a new one.” Then he looks to Happy. “Did KAREN not transmit my location, before she went out? That’s what happened last time, so Mr.- uh- Mr. Stark was able to come get me when the shock knocked me out.” 

Happy and May exchange a look, then. May’s expression is one of anger, her lips pressed together so firmly they’ve gone a little white at the edges. Happy looks apprehensive. Something cold settles in Peter’s stomach. 

“I guess not,” Peter says weakly. 

Happy’s voice is gruff, when he answers, but he sounds...apologetic, almost. Gentler than Peter’s ever heard him sound, anyway. “I asked him about it, when your aunt called me to see if I’d heard from you. When I was able to... get a hold of him, he said he hadn’t heard anything, no.” 

Peter nods, and blinks, and tries to hide the way that little piece of confirmation makes his throat seize up. 

Because, well. It’s stupid in hindsight, he realizes, but he’d gotten kind of used to the idea that Mr. Stark was waiting in the wings, keeping half an eye out for him in case anything really gnarly happened. He hasn’t needed to intervene much--the first time Peter got electrocuted on patrol, that one time when he got stabbed, another when he missed a web while swinging through the city and managed to give himself a concussion. He knows that Mr. Stark checks KAREN’s signal just to make sure she’s online and working properly. 

It’s stupid to feel upset that he hadn’t noticed that Peter had gone dark. That he’d been lying there for hours, unconscious and vulnerable, in the cold, and Mr. Stark hadn’t even known. That he hadn’t come along with Happy to check in on Peter, when it was brought to his attention. 

Peter blinks for a minute, then clears his throat. “Well, uh, thanks for coming all the way here, Happy. I’m okay, really, but that was really nice.” He smiles at Happy, a little wobbly, and jerks his head in the direction of the hallway. “I think I’m going to try to get some real sleep, though.”

Happy nods, expression serious. “Of course. Sleep well, kid.” 

Peter gets up on slightly unsteady legs, waving off May’s offer to help, and retreats to his room. He peels off the suit, slowly--his skin has mostly healed, it looks like, but it feels raw and sensitive, painful to the touch. He spares a moment to be glad he was knocked out for the worst of it, then tosses the ruined fabric in the corner. He’ll have to deal with that, but--later. That is definitely a later problem. 

He should shower, he knows, but that feels like a later problem too. He drops gratefully into bed, and directly into a deep, dreamless sleep, the moment his head touches the pillow. 

*

May gives him a pass on going to school, the day after, and he gladly takes the out. It’s a Friday, anyway, and he’s not likely to miss much, so he spends the day lounging around on the couch, watching movies and napping. He’s not in any pain anymore, thankfully, but he can feel the lingering effects of the injury in the way he can’t seem to stay awake longer than a few hours at a time, in the way walking to the fridge or pantry for snacks leaves him feeling a little winded, a little dizzy. 

The weekend is uneventful. Peter couldn’t go out even if he wanted to, with the suit the way it is, and May has a very strict “no patrolling for a minimum of 72 hours after major injuries, no I don’t care about your freaky spider biology” rule. He spends the time hanging out with May, begrudgingly doing his chores, and working on the formula for his new webbing--suddenly much higher on the priority list, now. It’s not as good without the holo-screens in the lab and FRIDAY’s helpful cross-referencing capabilities, but he begins to feel like he’s making progress. 

By the time Monday rolls around, the itch to get back out there, patrolling the streets, is starting to crawl under his skin.

Which means he needs to get his suit fixed. 

Which _also_ means he has to contact Mr. Stark. 

Weirdly, this is the first time he’s had to do something like this. Every other time something major has happened and the suit has needed a repair, Mr. Stark has had a new one ready for him before he even thinks to ask. He’s not even really sure _how_ to go about requesting a new suit. And the process would probably be a little easier if he, you know, had a phone still. 

He has to resort to asking May to make the arrangements, in the end. Initially she wants to call Mr. Stark directly, but from the look on her face Peter immediately knows that that would probably be a very, very bad idea. He manages to talk her down, and eventually she agrees to call Happy to coordinate. 

She does, and Peter has to sit through an agonizingly long barrage of small talk. Somewhere around the time the conversation makes its way around to gardening--and how the fuck it makes it there Peter does not know, because _they live in an apartment--_ Peter catches May’s eye and realizes that yeah, she’s just messing with him. Probably as retribution for not letting her call Mr. Stark and give him a piece of her mind about what she says is him shirking his responsibility to Peter. 

Which is not what it is, for the record. Mr. Stark is just...busy. 

Peter makes increasingly insistent gestures as the call goes on, which May pretends to ignore, because as much as his aunt is the greatest she is also kind of an asshole. Eventually she decides to have mercy on him, though, and steers the conversation towards the subject of Peter’s suit, and coordinating time to get a new one from Mr. Stark. They settle on a plan: Peter will bring the ruined suit with him to school on Monday, where Happy will meet him to take him to the tower. Happy will coordinate everything with Mr. Stark, make sure he tears himself away from his work at the compound so he can come and help Peter. 

Peter tries not to feel too guilty about that. He knows what Mr. Stark is doing is important, but… well, isn’t Spider-Man important, too? 

In any case, he’s going, and he’ll get his suit fixed, and get to see Mr. Stark, even. Maybe after this, Mr. Stark won't be so busy, or he'll decide he can do at least some of his work from inside the city, instead of the compound. 

Maybe, things can go back to _normal_. 

**Author's Note:**

> narrator: things did not go back to normal
> 
> thank you all for reading! i'd love to hear from you if you are so inclined; every comment is deeply cherished. 
> 
> i'm editing as i go, so updates will be every other day or so. until then, feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://hollow-dweller.tumblr.com/)!


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